


trust

by felinedetached



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: + the one time he found out he hadnt been ignored and got really emotional in a large amount of ways, Adults Don't Trust Teenagers, And That Sucks, Gen, Tony I Thought Better Of You, basically peters thoughts in all the moments of homecoming that he was ignored, but so are teenage emotions, he didnt have a very good rolemodel, or children, peter is emotional, there are so many scenes from homecoming in this, this fic is a MESS, tony doesnt know how to deal with emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 15:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13297551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinedetached/pseuds/felinedetached
Summary: Peter Parker is used to adults ignoring him. Adults do that - ignore teenagers. Refuse to listen to them. It's a fact of life. It's ashittyfact of life, but it is one.He thought Tony Stark was the exception.It turns out he both is and isn't.





	trust

It’s with a heavy heart that you watch the empty Iron Man suit away, because the conversation you just had with Mr. Stark taught you something you never thought you’d have to learn - not with him.

 

Adults don’t listen to teenagers. That’s just how the world works. Teenagers are too young, too clueless, too driven by emotions to have any  _ real _ concerns. At least, that’s what adults tend to think. But Mr. Stark…

 

You’d thought he was different. That he  _ trusted _ you, trusted your abilities, trusted you to make your own decisions and trusted you to do what was needed. This just proves that he doesn't - he still thinks of you as too young to make your own decisions, just like the rest of the world.

 

You’d thought that taking you to fight Captain America meant more than it did.

 

But that’s just part of being a teenager, you suppose. Being unheard. Unwanted. Ignored. Your opinion obviously isn’t valued in this.

 

With a sigh, you turn and make your way home.

 

* * *

 

 

Removing the tracker from your suit is surprisingly easy, especially with Ned’s help. Happy will think you’re still at the hotel when the decathlon takes place, and you’re free to try and stop these guys - because no matter what Mr. Stark says, they’re dangerous and need to be taken down.

 

Then Ned pipes up.

 

“There are a ton of different subsystems in here, but… they’re all disabled by the Training Wheels Protocol.” You can practically  _ hear _ the laughter in his voice as he says it, but you’re not that bothered by that. Not at the moment.

 

Not when your mind is preoccupied by the fact that Mr. Stark  _ put a Training Wheels protocol on your suit _ . You already knew he didn’t trust you - that was made clear by how he ignored you when you tried to tell him about something  _ huge _ happening right under his nose, but this?

 

This is insulting.

 

He doesn’t trust your abilities, so he limited what you can do. He’s treating you like a  _ child _ , and yes, you know you are one, technically. You’re all too aware of how young you are - you can’t even  _ drink _ . But you can stop a bus with your bare hands, and you’ve been stopping crimes in Queens for a while. You can handle yourself, and Mr. Stark’s distrust  _ hurts _ .

 

You have to prove him wrong. You  _ have _ to.

 

* * *

 

 

Soon, you find out that Mr. Stark isn’t the only one who doesn’t listen to you. Your heart races in your chest as Liz takes the phone from you, Ned’s obvious dismissal of your warning another knife in your chest. But mostly you’re worried - they’re going to the washington monument, and to get up there it’ll have to go through an x-ray. Karen’s words ring in your brain;

 

_ “It would require radiation to transform it into an explosive state.” _

 

You run faster.

 

And only barely get there in time. Liz almost  _ died _ . Your friends - Ned and Liz, and your teacher, Mr. Harrington almost died because you  _ let Ned go through an x-ray with explosive alien technology _ . They almost died, because you almost didn’t make it back in time.

 

They were so close to death, and it was  _ all your fault _ . You did save them, you know that and you’re proud of that, but it was  _ you _ who put them in that situation in the first place.

 

Mr. Stark was right. You’re irresponsible, and almost got people killed. 

 

You’re selfish as well. Whatever happens, you don’t  _ want _ to stop being Spider-Man. Spider-Man is a part of you now,  the suit is a part of you. Not physically, of course, but Spider-Man is the suit and you’re nothing without the suit. Without the suit you’re a teenage boy with powers he doesn’t entirely know how to use yet.

 

But you  _ have _ to stop these guys. Mr Stark won’t, and you’re the only other person who knows about them, which means it’s your job.

 

And your chance to maybe prove yourself to Mr. Stark. Show him that you  _ can _ be trusted.

 

* * *

 

 

When you see Iron Man’s face on the side of the ship, hear his voice, you’re both relieved and terrified. He’s saved the lives of everyone on this ferry, saved the lives of people  _ you _ put in harm's way.

 

And he’s disappointed in you. Somehow, it’s worse than when Aunt May is.

 

“Hi Spider-Man,” he says, and his voice is  _ dripping _ with sarcasm, “band practice, was it?” It makes you shrink in on yourself, makes you want to make up for what you did wrong. And you try, you really did, but his voice…

 

“I think you’ve done enough,” he says, and you know he’s right. It hurts, though, his disappointment. It hurts more that he probably isn’t even here.

 

That you’re so low on his priority list, you don’t even deserve his time.  It hurts because you look up to him, and because you thought…

 

You thought something silly. That perhaps, just maybe, you  _ meant _ something to this amazing person - a superhero, and an example of everything you want to be when you grow up. It was exhilarating, that feeling, but you fucked up.

 

It somehow hurts even more when you hear repulsors fire behind you.

 

“Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch, I tell you to stay away from this,” he starts, and you look down at your hands.

 

“Instead,” he continues, “you hacked a multi-million dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the  _ one thing _ I told you not to do.”

 

“Is everyone okay?” you ask, hearing your voice crack. You hope they are - you hope that no one died because you didn’t listen to Mr. Stark, or because Mr. Stark didn’t listen to you, or because the two of you mutually didn’t listen to each other or something. Or, really, you hope that no one died because you fucked up whilst containing an alien weapon that was  _ obviously _ capable of cutting through your webbing. It could destroy  _ steel _ , for fucks sake.

 

“No thanks to you,” Mr. Stark says, and you flinch. But… you were the one hunting down people with obviously dangerous weapons. Mr. Stark wasn’t doing  _ anything _ about it - if he’d listened to you earlier…

 

“No thanks to me?” you ask, working up the courage as anger suddenly flushes your system, “Those weapons were out there, and I tried to tell you about it but you  _ didn’t listen _ .”

 

And that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it. He  _ didn’t listen to you _ , and you were trying to tell him about something  _ important _ . Something that could have affected the lives of millions - likely  _ has _ affected the lives of millions. These people seem to have been selling for a while, after all. And they’ve been collecting things for years - the Chitauri ships were cleaned up  _ years _ ago.

 

“None of this would’ve happened if you had just  _ listened _ to me!” Mr. Stark hovers silently as you talk, somehow still seeming so disapproving. You almost got people killed, because you were an idiot, but Mr. Stark had a part in this too. “If you even cared,” you continue, and you can hear the shift in your own voice as pain fills your chest, “you’d actually be here.”

 

And the Iron Man suit folds back, revealing Mr. Stark. You step back, shocked, as he steps forward out of the suit. His face is even more disapproving and guilt-inducing than the Iron Man one, and relief and guilt war in your chest.

 

He’s  _ here _ , which means he cares, but he’s still so disappointed.

 

“I did listen, kid,” he says, “who do you think called the FBI, huh?” And he didn’t  _ tell you _ ? He followed up on your tip but let you believe that no one was going to take care of this? But you’re given no time to voice all this as Mr. Stark continues, stepping forwards again. “Do you know that I was the  _ only one _ to believe in you - everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a 14-year-old kid.”

 

“I’m 15,” you say quickly, unable to stop yourself from correcting him even as your chest squeezes painfully tight. He  _ believed you _ ?

 

“No,” Mr. Stark says, instantly, voice raising, “this is where you zip it, all right? The adult is talking.” That phrase.  _ The adult is talking _ . It hurts, almost worse than finding out that Mr. Stark actually believed you. Because he  _ did _ , and he followed your hint, but this? This is what you hate about adults. This is what every teenager you know hates about adults.

 

How they think they know  _ so much more _ , and because of that, because you’re so much younger than them, you could never be right and they could never be wrong. Then Mr. Stark continues.

 

“What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right?” he asks, aggression in his voice, “Because that’s on you. And if you died… I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” you say, sobering up, “I’m sorry. I understand”

 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Mr. Stark says, speaking over you.

 

“I just wanted to be like you,” you admit, quietly.

 

“And I wanted you to be better,” he replies, and the knife slowly embedding itself in your chest twisted as it stabbed itself further in. Disapproval is in his tone, and on his face, and you can’t stand to look at him.

 

“Okay,” He says then suddenly, and his voice is far more chipper. You look back as he continues “It’s not working out, I’m gonna need the suit back.”

 

“For how long?” you ask, desperate - he couldn’t mean what you think he means, right? 

 

“Forever,” he says, confirming your worst fears.

 

“No!” you say, instinctively, “please, please -”   
  
“Yeah, that’s how it works,” he says, ignoring your pleas, “let’s have it.”

 

“Please, this is all I have.” You couldn’t bear to be without the suit - without the suit, you’re not Spider-Man. Without the suit you have nothing to fall back on. You’d just be another nerd. You  _ have _ to make Mr. Stark understand that. “I’m nothing without this suit.”

 

Mr. Stark lets out a sigh, and when he looks at you you want to cry, and he says “If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it. Okay?” There’s nothing you can say, nothing you can argue with.

 

“God, I sound like my dad,” he mutters, looking away. You open your mouth, searching for something to say. Nothing you could say would change his mind - he’s Tony Stark, Iron Man, and if he wants his suit back there’s really nothing you can do about it.

 

“I don’t have any other clothes,” you say eventually, hoping to hold on to the suit for a little longer. He looks at you for a minute, eyebrow raised.

 

“Okay, we’ll sort that out.”

 

When you hand over the suit, you feel like you’ve lost yourself.

 

* * *

 

 

Turning up at Liz’s door and having it answered by the guy you’ve been chasing sends you into shock. Honestly, you’re not really aware of much after that - or at least, you’re not until he asks you to stay behind whilst Liz goes into Homecoming.

 

“Does she know?” Liz’s dad asks you, a gun in his hand.

 

“Know what?” you reply, hoping that playing dumb will actually get you somewhere. It probably won’t. It never seems to.

 

“So she doesn’t. Good,” he says, and you wish you could call Mr. Stark. But he won’t listen. He took your suit after all - he’ll think you’re just trying to get it back or something. “Close to the vest,” Liz’s dad continues, “I admire that. I’ve got a few secrets of my own.”  _ Secrets _ … Liz doesn’t know. If you took down her dad, he’d go to jail for something she didn’t even know he was doing.

 

“Of all the reasons I didn’t want my daughter to date…” he says, seemingly to himself. Shrugging, he laughs a little before continuing. “Peter, nothing is more important than family. You saved my daughter’s life - I could never forget something like that. So I’m going to give you one chance.”

 

Your breath catches at this statement, and you wait to hear what he’s going to say.

 

“Are you ready? You walk through those doors, you forget  _ any _ of this happened… and don’t you ever,  _ ever _ , interfere with my business again. Because if you do… I’ll kill you and everybody you love.”

 

_ May _ . You can’t risk her life.

 

“I’ll kill you dead,” Liz’s dad continues, “That’s what I’ll do to protect my family. Do you understand?” You nod, wordless. “Hey!” he says louder, “I just saved your life. Now what do you say?” You have to protect May.

 

“Thank you,” you say to the guy who almost killed you twice and has been illegally selling insanely dangerous weapons in your hometown.

 

“Your welcome,” he replies, “Now, you go on in there and you show my daughter a good time, okay?” Here, he pauses, and smirks as he adds “Just not too good.” Silently, you open the door. Everything seems hollow - echoey. You can’t put May in danger, you just  _ can’t _ , but you can’t let him sell more of those weapons. Mr. Stark won’t help, and there’s no one else you can call.

 

You have to take him down yourself.

 

Inside the school gym, Ned stands with Michelle. He waves at you, she pulls the finger. Liz dancing with her friends, back to you. She turns when she sees you though, walks up to meet you, and you can’t just abandon her at  _ Homecoming _ .

 

But you have to stop her dad.

 

“Hey,” she says, smiling as you walk up, “What did he say to you?” She sounds so exasperated when she says that, like she’s irritated with an overprotective dad and not a criminal selling stolen alien weaponry to the public.

 

“Gotta go,” you tell her, and watch as her face falls. “I’m. I’m sorry,” you say, because  _ god _ you feel bad, “you don’t deserve this.” And you leave, locate your spider suit - your old one, the one you made from scraps before Mr. Stark made you a better one. For a minute you’re blinded by your mask as you pull it over your head, and in that moment someone takes advantage of your blindness. 

 

Something large, heavy, sparking and too rectangular to be a fist slams into your face as you try to slip your web slingers over your wrists.

 

“He gave you a choice,” a voice above you says, “you chose wrong.”

  
“What the hell?” you ask, looking up, and from there everything is a blur of panic and adrenaline.

 

* * *

 

 

When you call for help, voice hoarse from the dust and the pressure on your body, no one listens. No one is there to listen. But no one listens to you anyway, so it’s really not all that different, right?

 

You just gotta save yourself from this one.

 

“Come on Peter,” you say to yourself, remembering Mr. Stark’s words.

 

_ “If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it. _

 

“Come on Spider-Man.”

 

If nobody else listens to you, you’ll listen to yourself.

 

* * *

 

 

This time, it’s a bad guy not listening to you.

 

“Your wingsuit,” you say, and your voice is too hoarse and too quiet, so you gather enough energy to yell “Your wingsuit’s going to explode!” He doesn’t listen though - he just keeps lifting, enough weight to strain the already-damaged motors enough that they can’t handle it. Desperately, you shoot a web to hold him down. This way, if it does explode, maybe you can save him from the blast.

 

“Time to go home, Pete,” he tells you, head tilted and voice condescending.

 

“I’m trying to save you!” you yell back, but he doesn’t respond, only cuts the last of your web with his feathers.

 

The wingsuit goes up in flames, falling to the ground, and  _ he’s still in there _ .

 

Forcing yourself up and ignoring the pain in your shoulder and ribs, you make your way over to where the suit fell. The wings are hot to the touch, burning your fingers as you lift it and pull Liz’s dad from the wreckage.

 

* * *

 

 

_ As you’re writing the note, your hands shake. What if they blame you for the loss of their plane? You did continue to be Spider-Man without Mr. Stark’s permission, after all. _

 

**_FOUND_ ** _ , you write,  _ **_flying vulture guy - Spider-Man P.S. Sorry about your plane_ **

 

* * *

 

 

“I really owe you one,” Happy Hogan tells you in the toilets of your high school, “I don’t know what I would do without this job. I mean, before I met Tony-” He’s cut off by the sound of a toilet flushing, and you two stare at each other (or, well, Happy stares at the guy who interrupted him) in an awkward silence.

 

But his presence…. It means he actually listened to you. For the first time.

 

“So uh,” you say, looking for anything to break the awkward silence between you and a person - an  _ adult _ \- who might actually be listening to you now, “how long you been here?”

 

“Long enough to be awkward,” Happy says, and you can see him shift back into professionalism. Or, as close to professionalism as anyone who’s been working for Tony Stark for as long as he has can get. “Boss wants to see you.” 

 

“Is he here too?” you ask, whispering, as you suddenly envision Mr. Stark walking out of a cubicle in your school’s toilet.

 

“In the toilet?” Happy asks, “no, he’s upstate.”

 

“Upstate - like, upstate-upstate?” you ask, and want to hit yourself. That sounded  _ so stupid _ , why can’t you think before you speak?

 

“Yeah, let’s go,” Happy says, and leads you out of the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Arriving at the Avengers Compound is breathtaking - it’s been remodeled, according to Happy, and it’s  _ amazing _ . Whilst you’re there, a quinjet takes off, and Happy lets you watch from inside.

 

“You don’t see that everyday,” he comments, and you can’t help but agree. This is  _ amazing _ .

 

“Oh, there they are,” Mr. Stark’s voice comes from behind you, “how was the ride up?”

 

“Good,” Happy answers for you, stepping towards Mr. Stark.

 

“Give me a minute with the kid,” Mr. Stark says, turning to face Happy.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah. I gotta talk to the kid.”

 

“I’ll be close behind,” Happy decides eventually, stepping back slightly.

 

“How about a loose follow? All right? Boundaries are good.” Happy just watches as Mr. Stark moves towards you, obviously going to ignore his words. Mr. Stark punches you lightly on the arm, then slings his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to walk with him.

 

“Sorry I took your suit,” he says, and you look up at him, shocked. “I mean, you had it coming,” he amends at the look on his face, “actually, it turns out it was the perfect sort of tough-love moment you needed, right? To urge you on, right? Wouldn’t you think?” He’s rambling now, and you’re not inclined to stop him. It’s kind of amusing, actually, and amazing to see that Mr. Stark is just like you - that he can be nervous too. “Don’t you think?” he adds, obviously prompting you.

 

“I. Uh. Yes,” you get out eventually, stammering, “I guess.”

 

“Let’s just say it was.”

 

“Mr. Stark, I really-” you start, and are almost grateful when he interrupts you because you honestly had no idea what you were going to say.

 

“You screwed the pooch hard, bigtime. But then you did the right thing. Took the dog to the free clinic, you raised the hybrid puppies… all right, not my best analogy.” At this, you almost want to laugh. It really isn’t the best analogy, but you get the point. You did fuck up, and you did almost get people - and yourself - killed. You worried Ned and Mr. Stark, lied to Mr. Stark and got in the way of an fbi arrest. “I was wrong about you,” Mr. Stark adds, and there’s a hint of pride in that statement. Pride in  _ you _ . “I think, with a little more mentoring… you could be a real asset to the team.”

 

It takes a while for that statement to sink it.

 

“To the -? To the team?” you ask, and you can barely breathe. Is Mr. Stark asking you to be an Avenger?

 

“Yeah. Anyway, there’s about 50 reporters behind that door. Real ones, not bloggers. When you’re ready,” here, Mr. Stark hits his watch and you stare as a suit rises from the floor in front of you, “why don’t you try that on, and I’ll introduce the world to the newest official member of the Avengers: Spider-Man.”

 

_ Tony Stark _ , also known as  _ Iron Man _ , just asked you to join the _ Avengers _ . You laugh nervously as you attempt to reply - you’re honoured, you really are. Becoming a part of the Avengers has been your dream for, like, as long as you could imagine. The suit is amazing as well - red and black, and you’d  _ love _ to try it on.

 

“Yeah, give that a look,” Mr. Stark says, and he’s obviously proud of the suit as well. He must have put a lot of work into it. “So, after the press conference Happy will show you to your room, your new quarters. Where’s he between? He’s, uh, next to Vision?”

 

New quarters?

 

“Yeah, Vision’s not big on doors,” Happy says, voice dry. 

 

“It’s fun.”

 

“Or walls,” Happy adds.

 

“You’ll fit right in,” Mr. Stark tells you. His voice is soft. And you’d really love to be a part of this but… you can’t leave Aunt May. And you have the sneaking suspicion that this is a test.

 

Honestly, after what happened with Liz’s dad, you’re happy just to be the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man of Queens, New York.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” you say, “But I’m good.”

 

“You’re good? Good - how are you good?” he replies, obviously confused.

 

“Well, I. I mean, I’d rather just stay on the ground for a little while. Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man,” you laugh, quietly. “Somebody’s gotta look after the little guy, right?”

 

You can’t help but remember Mr. Stark’s words.

 

_ “Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing.” _

 

_ “The Avengers?” _

 

_ “No, no no no. This is a little below their paygrade.” _

 

You think you’d be happy just to look after the people of Queens.

 

“You turning me down?” Mr. Stark asks, pulling off his shades, “You gotta think about this - look at that.” you follow his finger to where the suit stands, and then back to him when he says “look at me. Last chance - yes or no?”

 

“No,” you say, without hesitation. You’re almost sure it’s a test now.

 

“Okay. It’s kind of a Springsteen-y, working-class hero vibe that I dig. Uh, Happy’ll take you home.” Mr. Stark looks off down the corridor. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Happy says, lifting his hand to gesture towards where he parked the car, “Mind waiting in the car? I need a minute.” Nodding, you look back to Mr. Stark.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Yes, Mr. Parker, very well,” he says, shaking your hand.  _ Tony Stark _ called you Mr. Parker, and  _ shook your hand _ .

 

“See you around,” you say, and you almost can’t believe that you’re able to say that to Mr. Stark.

 

“Okay,” he looks back at the suit, and you back away down the hallway towards the car. Then, pausing, you turn to look back at them.

 

“That was a test, right? There’s, uh, nobody back there?” You’d hate to disappoint 50 reporters because you thought their existence was a  _ test _ .

 

“Yes,” Mr. Stark replies, “you passed. All right, skedaddle there, young buck, skedaddle.” Relief floods your body.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. Thank you,” you call, running back down the hallway.

 

“Yeah, thank you,” you hear Mr. Stark respond, and your world is lighter, almost. He listened. He thinks you did good. He  _ made you a new suit _ , and  _ apologised _ for taking the old one.

 

Maybe you weren’t so wrong about Tony Stark.

 

* * *

 

 

_ This belongs to you - T.S. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I watched Homecoming and had Emotions. A lot of them. Mostly relating to adults + peers ignoring you. This fic was originally just about that, but then it evolved and now I don't know what it is.
> 
> I'm also like, 90% sure I don't have Peter's characterisation down very well. I'll get better, hopefully.
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr [@felinedetached](https://felinedetached.tumblr.com/), and maybe try and convince me to finish writing the fics in my drafts. This is the longest oneshot I've posted so far, at 4,000 words and 11 pages, but I've got one sitting in my drafts thats currently about the same length as this one, but is only an eighth finished.
> 
> Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed this!


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